by T. S. Joyce
“To you. You grew up with him, and you’re his son. He had no reason to maul you. I was made to betray you.”
“But you didn’t. You made me happy instead.” When Weston twisted sideways and peeked out from under the car, the light he’d hung from the undercarriage illuminated his half-smile. “Besides, I told you, I already explained you had nothing to do with whatever the council was planning. My Da has no problem with you anymore. He told me to take good care of you.”
“He did?”
“Yeah, in his own way. His exact words were, ‘If she makes sense to you, don’t let nothin’ ever hurt her, or it’ll hurt you worse.’”
Avery propped her cheek on her elbow and fiddled with a loose thread on the blanket. She was going to write that quote down on a scrap of paper and keep it in her treasure box. “I think maybe I won’t be as scared when I meet him now. Weston?”
“Yep,” he gritted out, struggling to tighten something under her car.
“Will you sleep beside me tonight?”
He let off a little growl that sounded much more feral than a raven shifter should’ve managed and slid out from under the car. “You don’t know what you’re asking, Ave. Trust me when I say you don’t want that.”
“But that’s why we’re out here in the middle of the night, right? You’re avoiding your visions? You’re avoiding sleep? You can’t just go forever without resting your body, Weston. It’s not good for you.”
Weston’s jaw was clenched hard as he stood and wiped his filthy hands on a cloth. His eyes were black as he ghosted her a glance.
With a deep frown, Avery sat up and asked, “Why is your raven so worked up?”
“I had a vision about you last night.” Weston rushed the words, as if he wanted to say them before he changed his mind.
Avery was shocked into silence. “A bad one?” she whispered.
“Yeah. No.” He upended a container of oil under the hood of her car and locked his other arm against the edge while it emptied. “I was awake when it happened, and it was a vision of the past, not your future.”
Dread dumped into her system, freezing her into place like an ice sculpture. “What did you see?”
“You in The Box, and you were—”
“That’s enough. I don’t need to know anymore.”
“You didn’t tell me it was that bad.”
“No one ever laid a hand on me—”
“You were clawing at the fucking walls, Ave! Your nails were bleeding, and you were freezing and skinny and reciting my letters—”
“I said that’s enough! Please,” she begged in a whisper. “Please stop. It doesn’t help me. Can’t you see I’m better when I don’t think about The Hollow? My raven is stronger here. I’m happy here. Let me keep my happy.”
Weston tossed the empty oil container to the ground and reached for the next and unscrewed the cap slowly. “I couldn’t help you, and it did something awful to me, Ave. Really consider what you are asking when you want me to sleep beside you because you would’ve been really upset if you dealt with me right after coming out of that vision.”
And there it was. He didn’t believe her strong enough to handle the darkness inside of him, and her panic over him talking about his vision had proved him right. She wasn’t yet, but she really, really wanted to be.
Ashamed, she asked, “Will you at least lay beside me until I fall asleep?”
One corner of Weston’s lip curved up, but the smile didn’t reach his tired eyes. “Always,” he murmured.
Always. He would always give in and lay her to sleep, but letting his body go unconscious beside her was something different. It was too much for now. It was trusting her to handle the hardest part of his life and, in this moment, she swore to herself she would work harder to own her past so she could be stronger in the future. For Weston, but also for herself.
Avery would make this easier for him. She had to because she loved him, and she wanted to help shoulder his burdens, the way he was shouldering hers. Weston knew what The Box had been like. There was no downplaying the confinement since he’d seen it with his own eyes and soul.
He’d seen her darkest moments, and someday soon, she wanted to be tough enough to see his.
Weston finished refilling her car with oil, lowered the hood, and backed her Civic off the blocks. He’d replaced the battery, did God-knows-what when he was digging around under the hood and in the steering column, and had given it a full tune-up, including new windshield wipers. Avery was officially convinced there was nothing Weston couldn’t do. Her car started and idled better than it had done in years.
“I’m so attracted to you right now,” she murmured as he offered her a hand up.
“Oh yeah?” he asked. “You like me sweaty and covered in dirt and oil?”
He’d tossed his baseball cap so his dark facial scruff matched those raven black eyes of his. The dimple was showing again. As she dragged her attention down his muscular throat to the tattoos and piercings that covered his ripped chest, she murmured, “Hell yeah, I like you dirty.” And muscly, and tattooed, sweet, funny, quiet, and mysterious. She’d been imagining all day what they’d done in the woods. She was already wet and ready for him. Even Avery could smell the pheromones she was putting off.
And then he touched her—just a brush of his fingertips down the side of her neck. She rolled her eyes closed at how good it felt. His other hand gripped her waist, pulled her closer until her breasts pressed against his hard chest. His mouth brushed hers, and Avery angled her head, parted her lips so he could push his tongue inside. The second he deepened their kiss, she let off a happy hum. God, she loved this. Loved the taste of him, loved the way his body fit perfectly to hers, loved the way he gripped her shirt in his hands like he couldn’t help himself.
He made her feel beautiful with a touch.
He made her forget all the bad stuff…with a touch.
He healed the cracks in her broken heart, fusing them together one by one…with a touch.
Avery slipped her arms around his neck and pushed up on her tiptoes, desperate to be closer to him. Weston pulled her so hard against his body, there was no end to her, no beginning to him, but still, she wasn’t close enough. This was an addiction. Weston was her drug, and she could never get enough of the high he gave her.
When she slipped her tongue shallowly past his lips, Weston let off the sexiest sound. He leaned forward, lifted the backs of her knees around his waist, and slammed her backward against the car, ground his hips onto her slowly and bit her bottom lip hard. She was gone. Weston wasn’t a naturally gentle lover, and that was okay. More than okay. She loved him wild, adored his dominance. He was good at telling her what he wanted without words, and right now, he wanted her more than anything. Her inner raven drew up like a goddess.
Weston pushed his hard dick against her again and touched her sensitive clit perfectly. She’d thought her first few times would be bad, or awkward, until she learned how to use her body, but nope. No problems here. Weston was good at taking control and teaching her as they went. He didn’t coddle her or question her. He just trusted her to rise up to the occasion like the damn phoenix he believed her to be.
Weston lurched backward, taking her with him, then strode up the stairs to his porch. His cabin and Ryder’s shared a roof but were separated by a dog run right through the middle. He set her on her feet at the front door and kissed her for a minute longer, tongue stroking hers rhythmically, driving her body mad.
“I have to tell you something,” he murmured, his voice deep and sultry.
She nipped his lip. “Tell me anything.”
His dark brows drew down, and he gave a nervous glance at the door behind her. “My house… It’s different.”
“Is it messy? I don’t care if it’s messy.”
“No, no. It’s more like a…den. Like how I grew up. I haven’t ever let anyone in here.” He shrugged. “I keep my dens private.”
But he was letting her see it? As he pus
hed the door open, her heart tethered to him even more.
Inside didn’t look like inside at all. It looked like outside. Avery gasped and padded to the center of the room, spun slowly to take it in. He’d covered the walls with strips of bark and nailed young sapling trees in an overlay that stretched from the scratched wood floors to the wooden ceilings.
Weston flicked on a deer antler lamp, but the light was muted by a cloth covering the shade. The entire cabin was one big open room with a kitchen to the right of the living room and a queen-sized bed under exposed oak beams on the left. Even his bedding was brown and deep forest green, and the kitchen counters were made of gnarled wood that looked hand carved and polished.
“It looks like a treehouse,” she whispered reverently. Avery ran her fingers over the smooth wood of the foot of the bed. “Did you make this?”
“I made everything in here,” he said low. “I like working with wood. I like creating things. I like giving wood function.” He ran his hand over his hair and gave a self-deprecating laugh. “It probably sounds dumb, but I like spending time in my shop alone. I like the sound of silence. I work through my shit better without all the…” He waved his hand over his head. “Noise.”
Full of emotion, she smiled. She knew he hadn’t shared this part of himself with anyone but her. “Will you show me your shop sometime?”
“Yeah,” he said quickly. “Whenever you want. It’s out back.” Weston looked around the room, hand resting on the back of his neck. “Do you like it?”
“Come here,” she murmured, heart thumping so hard at how fucking cute he was. Big, dominant, tatted-up monster, and he was worried about what she thought of his den? Weston had so many layers, and the more she learned of him, the more she loved him.
He strode closer, and she turned him slowly and pushed him down on the edge of the bed. He chuckled, and his eyes sparked with desire as she pulled her T-shirt over her head.
“I love your den so much it’s ridiculous.”
“Yeah?” Weston sounded distracted and was staring at her black satin bra.
“It feels homey, like the woods do.” Avery shimmied out of her jean shorts, and clad in only her lingerie, she climbed up onto his lap. Straddling him, she pushed up on her knees, so she was just above eye-level. She kissed his smiling lips. His hands were rough, gripping her hips, and maybe she wouldn’t have liked that with anyone else. But with him, it was just so perfect, so Weston.
She rolled her hips forward, building her own excitement because his dick was so hard, so thick under his jeans, and she remembered exactly how he felt inside of her. She was still a little sore from last night, but her arousal was bigger than that. Weston wrapped his arms around her back and crushed her to him, rocking his dick against her.
Tonight, he was hers. She wasn’t nervous like their first time. She wasn’t hesitating to touch him. She didn’t have to. He would let her do what she wanted, so she dragged her fingertips down the strong curves of his arms. Someday she would trace every tattoo on his body, but tonight…tonight she just wanted to feel his skin. She wanted to familiarize herself with every inch of his body.
As she explored his chest and the flexing mounds of his abs, she rolled her hips against his.
“How are you this fucking sexy?” he asked breathily.
He trailed kisses down her neck, sucking hard, biting, pleasure and pain before he eased back and popped her tits out of her bra, grabbed them hard, and lowered his lips to one of her nipples. Their bodies were like water, flowing and moving as he sucked.
She could absolutely come like this, even with his pants on. He was already working her close to release, so she unsnapped the button on his jeans. Weston pulled his lips from her skin just long enough to work his pants down his thighs, and then he unfastened her bra in back with a quick snap of his fingers. Rushing now, he yanked the cups from her shoulders and threw it on the ground. His hand slid down her belly into the front of her panties as he swallowed up the gasp that rose from her throat.
A curious shiver trembled up his back and landed in his shoulders when he dragged two fingers through the wetness he’d conjured between her legs. In a smooth movement, he lifted her just enough that she hovered over the swollen head of his cock. And in an instant, he moved her panties to the side and slid her down.
“Ooooh,” he groaned as she sheathed him slowly. His eyes rolled closed, and he gritted his teeth.
He filled her, stretched her, felt amazing inside of her. He was so long and thick he was almost too much, but she relaxed as much as she could and eased back up when he went too deep. And by the third stroke, the soreness had disappeared. In its place was core-deep pleasure and heat. She pressed her chest against his and hugged him tight, eased up and back down again. She was already too close. “I’m almost there,” she panted. I’m sorry!
“Good. Come for me, Ave,” he growled against her ear.
She cried out softly on the next stroke, and again on the next, her fingernails digging into the back of his neck. His kiss was rough, and his teeth grazed her lips. Punishing him, she bit him back hard.
Weston’s reaction was instant. He bucked into her harder and let off a sexy sound.
Over and over, she slid onto him, and this felt better than anything ever had. Her chest was on fire, and her mind was completely fogged with the high. Slowly, she worked her biting kisses down, down until she reached the muscle right at the top of his peck. Testing, she bit him harder there and rolled her hips. But Weston didn’t try to escape her like he did last time. This time, he cupped the back of her head and dragged her closer, bucked into her deep.
“Do it,” he rasped.
Avery sank her teeth into his chest just as her body exploded with ecstasy. This was happening. Her life was changing for the better, right now, in this moment. Every instinct in her body screamed to do it right. To do it hard. To scar him so he would never be able to look in the mirror without thinking about her. Inside, Avery’s raven was crowing in triumph that she was claiming her mate. Avery had never heard of claiming marks for normal ravens, but she wasn’t normal, and Weston sure as hell wasn’t normal either. He was half grizzly shifter, raised in a crew of claiming monsters that made this moment feel so right.
Weston threw his head back and gritted out her name as his dick pulsed hard inside her. Heat flooded her in jets as he pushed into her again and again. Warmth flowed into her mouth, the taste of copper struck her tongue, and then it was done. Her mark was made.
Avery released his torn skin and writhed against him, arched her back, and closed her eyes when his lips landed on the base of her throat. The scrape of his teeth brought on another pounding aftershock from both of them. She was prepared to beg, but Weston didn’t ask, didn’t hesitate.
He bit down near the tip of her collar bone, right on her shoulder, and he bit to claim. It was hard, his teeth cutting straight to her bone. Pain blinded her for a moment before he relaxed his jaw and let her go. Both of their chests heaving, they hugged each other tightly, bodies crashing against each other as Weston drew every aftershock from her.
“I love you. I love you,” she panted. Those were the only three words that made sense right now. Her chest was hot, as if someone had poured lighter fluid down her throat and lit a match.
And just as the sensation got to be too much, too harsh, Weston winced away hard, putting inches between them when he grabbed his chest. And just like that, the burning was gone. It was as if someone had doused her fire with a bucket of cold water. The shock remained, but not the burn.
Weston started shaking hard, staring at her with wide, dark eyes. She understood. The adrenaline in her system was doing something strange to her body, too. His gaze ducked to her bite mark, and slowly…so slowly…a smile crooked his lips.
Streams of red were racing down his chest from where she’d bitten him. Yet another way they matched. They’d chosen each other.
Weston gently ran his hands down her hips to her knees, then lifted that
dark, sexy gaze to hers. “Mate,” he murmured. “I love you, too.”
Chapter Nineteen
Mate.
It had been one week since Weston had called her that for the first time, but Avery still got a giddy feeling whenever she thought of that word.
She finished washing her hands in the bathroom sink of Big Flight and looked at her reflection in the mirror. She’d changed so much since she’d come here. No longer did she hunch or try to stay as small as she could. No longer did she stare at the ground or avoid gazes. No longer did her raven stay quiet and sad inside of her. Weston’s encouragement to own her inner badass made her stand taller. Her growing friendships with the Bloodrunners and her observations of the other strong women in the crew made her damn proud of the animal in her middle.
Avery’s skin was clear and glowing with her happiness. Her eyes were light teal and clear, her skin was tanner, and her hair lighter from working outside. Her hands were calloused, where they had been frail and easily blistered before. That was from Weston and Ryder insisting she come on some of the ATV tours to learn the trails. Even her arms were becoming more toned, and her body felt stronger, more capable of endurance. Raven’s Hollow hadn’t broken her like she’d thought. It had just weighed her down for a while.
No longer was she meant to stand in the shadows and look pretty. She used her body now. She was proud of it. She was even happy with her curves that had been so different from the other shifters of Raven’s Hollow.
Weston and the Bloodrunners, had helped to make her proud of who she was.
And the best part of her reflection was the healed circular scar Weston had given her.
She was the mate of the Novak Raven, and no one could ever take that away from her.
She wasn’t alone in the world anymore. She wasn’t invisible.
Avery adjusted the strap of her Big Flight tank top so it wouldn’t cover any of the claiming mark, then she dried her hands, and left the bathroom in search of Weston. He would be back from the last tour any second now.
